All the King's Horses
by insert amusing name here
Summary: Ch.3! In which we find out about Laharl's participation in a particular photo shoot, Etna's growing stash of blackmail material, Flonne's cooking abilities and Longinus' views on the 'youth of today'. LxE
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Just some good old fashioned, unadulterated Laharl/Etna fluff, seeing as you can never have too much. Well, you possibly could... I just wanted to even it out a bit! There seems to be a distinct absence of the pairing on this site, so I decided to take matters into my own hands! Very sorry, Laharl/Flonne fans, but the idea of those two together just doesn't sit right with me, seeing as the Love Freak is almost a carbon copy of the boy's mother, so I can't see them as anything other than platonic. You have been suitably warned! Don't like Laharl/Etna? Don't read! Easy, ne? BUT, for those of you who DO, go right on ahead, and heck, if we're going all out, why not review? It makes me feel shiny...

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**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own Disgaea: Hour of Darkness, or its characters, so please don't sue me... I'm just... borrowing it... for a while... I'll give them back, I swear!

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**All the King's Horses**

I swear to whichever deity deigns my prayer worthy of notice; that if Flonne implores me with those saucer-like baby blues of hers to put my faith in a Golem ever again, and I listen to her, I will stab myself in the forehead with a blunt piece of cutlery repeatedly; shortly after relieving said optimistic angel of her ability to partake of oxygen.

After stomping back into my rather shabby quarters, and slamming the heavy oaken door shut with a force that made the rusted hinges wail out in agony; which was a fair warning to even the exceptionally stupid that I did not want to be disturbed, I flung myself onto my dilapidated pallet and muffled my issuing screams by clamping my face down into my pillow.

Somehow, the Prince was to blame for all of this.

I'd spent the last four hours with the Dark Assembly; delivering His Majesty's proposals with all the spin and dramatic flair any demon ever possessed, whilst whittling down the number of Senators participating in the latest majority vote debacle. I'd done damned well to bully the committee from twenty-eight to a sweet sixteen, and I'd hand-selected as many supporters as I could get away with, hoping that the other embittered half of the haphazard gathering would at least be shit-scared of going against their Overlord.

Flonne had eagerly decided to be my wing-man, forgive the atrocious pun, and had delightedly squealed over the apparently 'super-cute' Senator Winney, and demanded that he be added to the ranks. This probably should have been where the warning bells went off in my head, seeing as this Senator was almost as wide as he was tall, and he was 15 feet high, give or take a few inches. The fact that he had been forged from clay like soot, with burning embers for eyes also should have clued me in; but alas, no, I didn't notice until it was FAR too late.

Winney, curse his hide, had graciously accepted Flonne's backing and pledged his eternal allegiance to King Laharl the Terrible, even though I could have sworn he was trying not to giggle when he uttered the 'Terrible'. I didn't really have the heart to blame him though, because I was in much the same state. It might have been something to do with the fact that I had seen the fearsome Overlord not five minutes prior to the gathering; skipping merrily down the hallways shrieking: OVERLORD! At the top of his helium infused lungs.

On any other day I might have deliberated on how adorable or puerile this was, which would of course lead to a stern talking to from the voice of common sense in the wee bit scary recesses of my mind, but today was important, and I needed my wits about me, to deal with the enemy, as opposed to my supposed allies…

Anyways, the initial stages had gone fine, peachy keen, or whatever. The congress had all looked over the proposal to open up the Dimensional Gateway to the Cave of Ordeal, and surprisingly, most of them weren't muttering in a fearful, xenophobic manner, which of course was too good to be true.

Senator Heinrich, a Balrog of some sort with a cringe-worthy fake tan in a not-so-fetching shade of Oompa Loompa; looked ready to pledge his undying love to me in exchange for any bribe of any kind. Even though he thought he hid it well, and I wasn't going to burst his bubble and dispel any illusions of grandeur on his part, it was kind of obvious that Heinrich hadn't sat in on any Assembly sessions before; seeing as he appeared eager enough to fight any other senate member for a piece of lint, let alone something actually 'useful'. However, Senator James rather cancelled out the ecstatic 'Yea' of Heinrich, as always, seeing as, in my humble opinion, the Nosferatu had a giant stick up his arse and therefore felt vindicated to share his suffering with the Netherworld in its entirety.

The Succubae had stuck to solidarity in horrific chest sizes, and therefore also rewarded my efforts with a snotty: 'Nay'. I'm not sure if they were still holding a grudge because of the first meeting, well over a month beforehand, but Laharl hadn't endeared himself any to the freakishly proportioned demons by rocking back and forth on his throne, crimson eyes screwed shut as he sang a truly random little ditty about a Prinny and a black pretzel rather loudly and badly enough to make me wish my ears were bloodied stumps, after I was done blushing at the vocabulary used.

At this point it was rather apparent that the situation was quickly going to displace all nuances of etiquette and quickly devolve into glorified fisticuffs, which was going to be made a heck of a lot worse without the passive support of the hulking great Golem sitting front row centre. Which would lead us neatly the magical moment when Senator Winney, the bastard, really let me down; with not one iota of a jot of repentance, he cheerily announced 'Nay' to the Assembly; and that would be the exact moment when the belated alarms and sirens went off in my skull.

A split second later I had taken a flying leap from the podium, landing atop the ebon and highly iniquitous, backstabbing golem, where I proceeded to stab at his bald, earthen head like I was trying to de-shell a hard-boiled egg. Heinrich, bless his heart, came to my aid immediately, lobbing one of the fast-approaching enemy Senators out of my path and into an unfortunate Nekomata, who proceeded to kick the crap out of the equally unfortunate, yet ill-informed Galactic Demon, who took the beating of its un-life with all of its many eyes open in unblinking incomprehension. What appeared to be a Jack O' Lantern in drag decided that war had been irrefutably waged, and therefore felt validated to leap atop a beyond creepy possessed tree stump in order to carve revolutionary slogans into its bark.

Flonne was meanwhile attempting to restore order, her pacifistic preaching falling on deaf ears when it wasn't drowned out by the screams of Senators locked in mortal combat. During all of this, I was still perched precariously atop the flailing Senator Winney, shrieking all manner of curses that no doubt traumatised the Angel Trainee further, jabbing down with my spear into the growing cracks appearing in the clay vessel.

Everyone was steering clear of the horrendously humongous Sea Dragon, who appeared to be quite upset by this development, as she was solemnly sprawled across the floor like a beached whale, moaning that not everyone could look like a bloody Succubus. Proceeding to fall off the wagon spectacularly, a feeding frenzy took place, with an Alp devoured as comfort food; tail feebly swaying in the dragon's humongous maw like a limp stick of celery…

Just before the climactic end to the melee, and the well-deserved end of Senator Winney, the Prince happened to pay attention to his surroundings for once and discovered the remnants of his Treaty meeting. I was summarily scolded for not listening to the oh-so-responsible Flonne, and then booted from the committee shortly after, with Flonne shedding copious tears for the newly dubbed Humpty Dumpty all the while.

Hence, I was sitting alone in my room after a twenty hour shift without the slightest bit of encouragement for my efforts, cursing the day the Angel had ever been reincarnated. She'd been so very eager to point out every one of my shortcomings before spouting some nonsense about love and tolerance, thankfully at which stage I managed to tune her out. It was just so damned unfair! One thousand years ago I'd lost out to a Love Freak, and now history was repeating itself and there was not one sodding thing I could do about it, seeing as I rather forfeited my right to be a rival when I kinda POISONED my own love interest! Not even saying that I even LIKE the stubborn little brat, because most of the time he's vying with Flonne for the top position of most eligible strangulation victim. And terrific, with my homicidal intent, emotional schizophrenia and general confusion, I've become the poster girl for the mentally unstable. Whoop-dee-doo…

I hate evenings… It's like I'm the antithesis of a night owl… Not saying I'm a morning person by any stretch of the imagination either; there's actually very little in a day that I actually… enjoy. In the evenings, when I'm not being worked into the ground by a narcissistic little twerp, I'm just too tired to do anything but think, and I'm definitely too exhausted to physically prevent myself from doing so. And when I start thinking, I start wishing that my shifts were four hours longer. Because four long hours of pondering the answers to all of the meaningless little questions that I wish to pose, just to clarify whether I'm valued if at all, is enough to drive a girl around the bend and back again.

My treacherous memory keeps taking me back to the hostile expanses of Jotunheim, regardless of my nurturing input to the contrary. It's perfectly understandable to be so utterly flummoxed, but my subconscious seems much more focussed on reliving a certain moment that the Angel Trainee wasn't privy to; pure, undiluted, Prince and Etna interaction.

Up until that very moment, all of my loyalties had been dedicated to retrieving my stolen memories; I hadn't bargained for Maderas to turn on the slimy sycophancy to full volume, and I definitely wouldn't have put any money on a forgiving Laharl; my target was to unabashedly wrench back what had been taken, and random interlopers be damned. I had never expected the Prince to actually fight for me, almost deaf and completely blind at that; and I wasn't even aware that fairytale reconciliations happened outside of Flonne's beloved Celestia.

But in some small, barely sentient part of my consciousness, I wasn't all that surprised. Even though for the majority, the Prince was a spoilt, whiny brat, he was still his father's son, and that on some level, they both shared more than a harrowing level of concern for their hair. King Krichevskoy would have forgiven me, even though I broke the only vow I had ever made. Although honour means little to a demon, I have my pride, and the late Overlord had earned my respect and adulation, maybe to the extent of Flonne's view of love. The King believed in kindness, a trait almost suicidal in demons; even though he could still be just as petty as the rest of the masses, and was deranged enough to think that facial hair was a good idea; but he clung to the little things that separated him so massively from the rest. He was chivalrous, unable to condescend; he actually had table-manners! But most of all, he cared for every individual.

Of course, with life going so perfectly, irony decided to herald the arrival of a human witch, or, under the friendly moniker I mentally gave her: Love Freak, the first. She was utterly incompetent, chirpy beyond belief and with more than a few screws loose, and the King was all over her like a particularly nasty rash.

Justifiably, I despised her.

She just waltzed into the King's life, leaving a destructive wake through my own. Faster than I thought was morally possible for Madame Holier-Than-Thou, she'd gotten knocked up, and then I was greeted by a dilemma with adorable, if slightly wonky, tufts of blue hair and luminous crimson eyes.

Baby Laharl was impossibly even more of a handful than he is now, having developed a penchant for harebrained schemes with frightening ramifications at about ten months of age. He'd developed his triumphant cackle a few weeks beforehand, which was kind of incriminating when you heard the splintering of a recently emptied cookie jar shortly before a giggle reminiscent of a squirrel on some sort of hallucinogen. However, when you managed to catch up to the small, irritating half-blood child, who for all intents and purposes moved faster than the speed of sound, which should've been impossible due to the fact that he'd only been walking for three weeks, he turned on the puppy face and conveniently legged it when the discipliner was firmly entranced by his lamp-like, liquid eyes. Sometimes, if I'm feeling pathetic or just nostalgic, I'm still suckered in one thousand years later, because the boy's still willing to try his luck.

But history repeats itself in endless spirals; each descending tendril just leading me to further despair. Because even if I know the Prince so implicitly, so completely that I can tell he's up to no good just from a slightly malicious twinkle in one vermillion iris; Love Freak, mark two, is just going to stroll onto the scene with her lame-ass, non-existent ninja skills and take the last person I will ever care for away from me.

Did I mention that I HATE evenings?

"Etna, open up…" Came a gruff, exhausted voice, muffled through the heavy oak. Rolling my eyes at the expense of my bossy employer, I heaved the door open and ushered in my Prince with a bow and a flourish. "How nice to see that your humour hasn't deserted you, I thought your brain might have taken it along for the ride." He snarked, storming past me like a little pent up ball of rage. Pulling a disturbing face and adding to the mix with a rude gesture was the only response I deigned him worthy of receiving. Laharl decided to retort with a glare that could melt glass, so I sighed and gave in with at least some good grace.

"I hope Senator Winney learnt his lesson…" I muttered angrily, entertaining a thought that he'd probably have enough time to reflect on his actions in intensive care.

"I'm sure he did, seeing as Flonne's still attempting to patch him up with inch long band-aids and you've been gone over half an hour." He delivered in an almost sombre monotone, but the hint of a smirk on display meant I wasn't fooled for a second.

"Meh, democracy failed, the bill was passed though, wasn't it?" I more announced than asked, topping off my nonchalance with a shrug.

"You're lucky Flonne can't keep her mouth shut for longer than two seconds or you'd be in a lot of trouble with me." He warned abruptly. I shot him a sardonic look for attempting to play the 'disappointed' card before smirking.

"She told you she backed the wrong horse?" I asked knowingly. Laharl grinned softly and nodded acquiescence.

"I kinda caught on when she started cooing to her 'Sweet Mr. Winney' that ally murder was wrong…" He chuckled. "Whatever possessed you to back a Golem?" He added as an afterthought, brows furrowed in consternation.

"By mutual consensus; by which I mean: Flonne thought a homunculus as black as pitch looked trustworthy…" I stated ruefully. Laharl snorted in amusement at this and I joined in with a small smile. "The good thing is that after I was done with him, all the Senators and Vassals in the palace…" I trailed off, eyes gleaming with amusement and a desperate need for inside understanding.

"Don't stand much chance of putting Humpty together again." Laharl concluded amusedly, before turning back to the door.

I stood up awkwardly, like a dog wanting to follow its master, but torn with the conflicting need to show just how much I DIDN'T need him, when he pivoted back to face me.

"Tomorrow morning I need you to extort some 'military funding' from the Assembly; they're so scared of you at the moment that you could knock their collective resistance down with a feather." He said; tone business-like and professional once again. I nodded respectfully and this time my bow wasn't laced with sarcasm.

"Yes; Your Highness." I replied sincerely, heart fluttering madly against the confines of my ribcage at the new development. Laharl made to leave again, but thought better of it and continued to pierce through all of the edifices I had built up to hide the emotions in my eyes with his own crimson gaze.

"One more thing… I'm sorry, Etna; I should have believed in you." He mumbled embarrassedly, before fleeing from my chambers.

For approximately the next five minutes, I stared in stunned silence at the equally mute, inanimate door, before coming rapidly to my senses. I flung myself back onto my bed for the second time, implementing my pillow for a different use as I squealed in delight.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: This WAS originally gonna be a one-shot... but then all of the reviews I got asked for some more, so I thought: What the heck?  
So, here it is! Ta-da! The second, infamous chapter of Horses! Well... possibly slightly... heard of... once before... maybe? Laharl's POV this time... I'm thinking of interchanging between them for each one!

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**-Warriors King-** Thank you so much for the fave! -sparkles- If that won't inspire a girl, then that means I'm really, really lazy, lol... So, seeing as I'm updating, that sort of means I'm not... Thanks again so much for the support! I really hope this chapter lives up to your expectations! 

**-Knight 2-** You're totally right... there's such a lack of Laharl and Etna on here that I felt it was my duty as a self-proclaimed author to right this terrible wrong... or something... Anyways, you asked for it, so here's another chapter! Yay!

**-Bella-** Thanks so much for such a detailed review, and thanks for noticing how Etna seemed to be far more articulate in her own head! I hope it doesn't seem too out of character, but I got the impression from the game that she was always really paranoid about anyone finding out her deepest, darkest thoughts and secrets, and so perhaps wasn't even completely honest with her diary. Hence, inside she is rainbows, lollipops and sunshine! Well... not really... she's still pretty violent and weird, but I thought I'd like to show a softer side... Much like I'm trying to portray a Laharl with a functioning brain in this chapter! Whoa this is long... Sorry 'bout that... Enjoy the chapter!

**-Dark Drow-** My first review! -cheers- Thank you so much, and thank you even more for liking it! I've decided to continue this, even if I did post the fic as a one-shot, because I've got such lovely feedback asking for more! So here you are! Another chapter! Woo!

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**Chapter Two: Sons of the Fathers**

Although I'd like to state in advance that I'm being completely hypothetical here, I'm beginning to think that the twenty-hour workdays are beginning to have rather adverse effects on my vassals' mental well-being.

Judging by the way Etna's looking at me, much like a rabid dog would eye up the trouser-clad limb of a post-demon, I'd have to conclude, after a short period of deliberation, of course, that she'd well and truly snapped.

Chuckling malevolently at my majestically witty play on words, for Overlords are nothing if not regal masters of comedic genius, I noticed the angel-trainee attempting to employ a level of stealth and subterfuge her gangly, uncoordinated limbs never had a hope in hell of achieving.

The redhead pivoted moodily to face the new occupant of my short attention span and growled half-heartedly, tugging at one of the skulls pierced through an earlobe as she flounced huffily from the room. My cackling rose in pitch and volume at their feeble efforts to bypass, ignore and effectively one-up the Overlord himself!

It does have such a nice ring to it: Overlord… uncontested, magnificent, iniquitous Overlord… who just happens to occupy the number one spot on Etna's hit-list at this particular moment in time.

I almost choked on my guffaws as my eyes quickly scanned the throne room for potential booby-traps, before getting distracted by a stray: "Nin nin nin!"

Analysing the Love Freak with no small amount of concern, seeing as that sort of behaviour could easily become a contagious epidemic if left unchecked; I sighed as her stupidly adorable buckled shoes, which she seemed to polish religiously if the near-blinding shine glinting from their tastelessly laminated surfaces served as any indication, collided with the expensively carpeted flooring with a soft, scuffing thud. When she added her own sound effect, as seemed to be a mandatory obligation whenever the ditzy angel was involved, I retracted my earlier thought of a theoretically imposed quarantine in favour of fully committing the mad-woman.

"Geez… you just… keep laughing and laughing…" She muttered in an exasperated form of fascination. I hadn't expected a mere goodie-two-shoes -and not even a fully fledged member of the Angelic Host at that- to understand the busy schedule of the ultimate Devil among demons, seeing as the brains of all inferior, love-based cretins were ill-equipped to process that an Overlord must perfect his bone-chilling, triumphantly evil laugh if he ever wished to succeed in fulfilling the responsibilities bestowed upon him by his executive powers in office. Then again, using the term 'office' would lend itself to supposing that my views and policies were democratic, and like that was gonna happen any time soon… Talking in the third person, however, was something I could manage quite comfortably.

I was about to enlighten the dumbfounded angel on all facets of my superiority, but then my flame-haired vassal re-entered the throne room, smiling beatifically as if she had not a care in the world, which contrasted so much with her earlier attitude that I wiled away a brief moment pondering on whether or not she was bipolar.

The look in her eyes clashed with the emotions held in the curve of her mouth, as those crimson orbs were delightedly informing me that if I didn't do right by her, and pretty damned soon, she'd hog-tie me to a spit and turn me slowly over the lava-pit until extra-crispy.

I may be a supreme being, but I'm not as brainless a fool as to give the Love Freak a run for her Hel. I had hoped, in a desperate manner, bordering on pathetic, that the smirking demon had forgiven me after our merry little 'escapade' earlier this morning, but alas, she was homicidal as ever, and had Prinny detonation down to a science.

"Oh Priiiince," She purred, in that slightly threatening manner that I never pick up on because my head suddenly feels as if it's been wrapped in cotton-candy. I've never really entertained the possible ramifications of just WHY the contents of my skull sprout proverbial hearts and flowers, and when I say hearts and flowers I mean… er… swords! Swords are safe and unadventurous, right? Gotta love those swords…

I really, really wish that she'd stop using that breathy, whiny, pleading tone with me, although I'm quite sure if I asked -I mean ordered- her to stop, she'd probably turn on the 'voice' far more frequently, and up the voltage with the 'puppy-face' as well.

"Whazzat?" I asked suddenly, realising that Flonne's blue eyes were flashing with righteous fire, which never usually boded well for me. Etna herself was still smiling innocently, which; if possible, put me more on edge than the Love Freak's inner machinations.

"I said: I've got a job for ya!" Etna chirped exuberantly, seemingly amused at my inattentive fuzzy-headedness. After exhausting all options for the sudden, slightly creepy change in her behaviour, again including possible schizophrenia, I determined that the redhead was messing with my mind, in a way that only Etna could pull off, seeing as Flonne's gifts lay in unintentionally taxing my brain to the point that it melted and ran viscously out of my ears. Unless that reaction was, in fact, a hallucinatory escape from listening to the blonde, but that's far too cerebral and complex to be dealing with right now cos Etna's talking again and I'm already only living on borrowed patience.

"You should call me 'Your Highness', seeing as I'M the Overlord now!" I interrupted smugly, tilting my head and flashing a toothy smile as I flung my legs over one of the arms of my throne, reclining arrogantly whilst interlocking my fingers behind my head. MY throne… a demon could get used to all these personal pronouns…

She bowed her head in a mocking show of false respect as Flonne barely concealed a long-suffering groan, and I'm relatively certain that I heard them both simultaneously mutter something along the lines of: "For the love of…" but then the respective tirades were cut-off as the angel-trainee realised she was about to say a 'swear', as she so irritatingly described the expletives, and so began a lengthy, flailing performance of wailing repentance, which amused me for all of five seconds before it began to grate on my nerves and overall sanity.

"Prince, Prince, Prince…" Etna clucked disapprovingly; a smirk studded with pointed teeth out in full force, most likely at the thought of disobeying me, knowing my luck. "Why d'ya have to get so hung up on the MINOR details?" She asked mischievously, deliberately adding fuel to my steadily simmering rage. Within seconds, I'd reached boiling point, and there was little other to do except explode.

"MINOR detail?" I fairly screeched. Unfortunately, the skilled oration was unable to carry the most, masculine, of my array of yells and bellows, which the wicked pair seemed to notice, what with the fact that they almost instantaneously began to laugh at me. "I'll have you know; that as your OVERLORD, I have dominion over your delicate little bodies and decomposing minds, though Celestia knows why I'd want to KEEP you! Oh… wait… I remember; I couldn't even pawn you off to Senator HEINRICH, and he thanked me profusely for a stick of GUM!" I shrieked in vexation, working my way through stages of relative indignant sentiment all the way up to soaring plateaus of ranting and raving in an entirely terrifying manner. Whoever mentions the inopportune detail that my voice rises by almost two octaves when I'm dishing out the righteous anger shall be fed to the Manticore… are we clear? Thought so…

Flonne sniffled slightly, whilst Etna merely bristled. I think I just might have missed out on that once in a lifetime opportunity to do right by her… bugger…

"What's the job?" I asked accommodatingly, back-pedalling furiously into the realms of submissive affability, pointedly ignoring the way the redhead's grip flexed on the shaft of her spear. "You want me to make it rain pepper on Earth so they can't stop sneezing? Or, do you want me to give human kids an addictive video game that will deprive them of their sleep?" I demanded excitedly, highly tempted to leap to my feet and clap in a manner of exuberance only Flonne should rightly be able to possess.

Then I realised that the schemes I had just forwarded weren't so much evil as they were… mind-numbingly lame… However, fortunately for my deflating ego, the angel-trainee was sporting an expression of such horror that it looked like I'd just declared war on Celestia.

Meanwhile, Etna merely quirked one magenta eyebrow with such force that it almost disappeared into her hairline as she shuffled slowly backwards; away from the crazies, no doubt.

"Uh… no…" She announced warily, as if waiting for the nightmare to evolve into some daft orgy of giant dancing bananas and musical numbers. "Aramis, you can come in now!" She called cheerily, replicating the manner of a wealthy heiress ringing a dainty little china bell in order to attract the presence and attention of her butler. I thanked all manner of beings far more long-lived than I that I wasn't that poor, abused butler. "Although I'll understand if you run far, far away instead…" She proceeded to mutter under her breath, so I reminded myself that it would probably be in my best safety-related interests to deign the vassal worthy of my complete, undivided attention. Hence, I peered over to the intricately carved, gold-leaf plated double doors with an action so overtly visible and expectant that it felt as if I'd given myself whiplash.

A small, sullen humanoid entered the lavish throne room, dragging his lumbering feet across my precious carpet before settling nervously behind his Mistress. In this case, ignorance would be preferable, if not downright blissful, to analysing the many facets of Etna's relationship with a petulant child that cowered behind her like a kicked puppy.

Of course, my mind mutinied against my common sense so I subtly sized up the little shrimp. Etna was an orphan, so I doubted she'd somehow acquired a long-lost family member, even if the resemblance between them was quite striking. My irrationality pounced on my scepticism eagerly, declaring that they were most likely third cousins, of Etna's aunt's grandchild, twice removed. Therefore, they were bound just close enough by blood ties for incest to still be sick and oh-so-wrong, but also separated far enough by familial obscurity for Etna to eventually get over me punting the petulant little midget out of my throne room and into a live volcano if he so much as dragged one sticky finger over one of the priceless vases I had worked so hard to steal.

"It's a toddler…" I stated flatly, feeling utterly confused and redundant. Did she want me to chop the little fellow into confetti and sprinkle HIM over the Earth?

"Oh please… you're the one acting like a child…" He snorted in return, condescension almost palpable in his tone, as if he were physically looking down on me; although that was physically impossible, seeing as he was like, a foot shorter than me, and I had leverage. Then I remembered that he'd just brutally mocked me. "I thought it was only the pretty ones that were supposed to be stupid?" He directed his question to Etna, who just hid a giggle behind a gloved hand. That confetti idea suddenly didn't seem half-bad…

"Who in the HELL do you think I am?" I screeched, steeling my features so I wouldn't pout. "I'll tell you, I'm OVERLO-"

"Now, now, Laharl… he's just a child…" Flonne interrupted smoothly and benevolently, flashing a megawatt smile to the little brat.

"Shut up, flat-chest, no one was talking to you." He pointed out snidely, before diving behind Etna again as the angel-trainee became so incensed a decorative potted plant spontaneously combusted.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY, YOU LITTLE SON-OF-A-?" She screamed, before regaining her mental faculties and unclenching her fists to brush some imaginary lint off her habit. "I mustn't…" She didn't sound convinced… "At times like this, love is the answer! With love, there is understanding!" She cheered, pepping herself up about as much as she creeped out the rest of us.

"Um, does she have a few screws loose or something?" The floppy-haired small person whispered conspiratorially. Given the way Flonne just twitched, I'm going to hazard a guess that she heard him.

I thought to myself… the little menace was rather amusing… in limited doses… and when his taunts were directed at other people…

"You've got some attitude, kid…" I decided, something alluding to slight fondness present in my tone. This was for Etna; she wouldn't appreciate it if I went with my gut-instinct and impaled the little bugger on one of her bunches and then timed how long it took her to notice the excess weight.

"Just like you, Prince…" She concluded affectionately, though I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not… dammit…

"Right," I snorted derisively, playing it safe just in case she was insulting me; albeit in a round-about, cloak and dagger, way. "So… what's he got to do with this job?" I asked, internally chanting: Confetti over Earth, like a mantra.

"Oh… yeah!" She giggled, as if she'd actually forgotten as to why we'd convened here in the first place. Flonne's vapid nature must have devoured her brain when my back was turned… "His pets are missing." She stated, so I responded with an ineloquent, open-mouthed stare. What was I supposed to do about it? Give the little freak a cookie? I decided to voice this question in softer terms.

"… AND?"

"It's your job to look for them…" She elucidated, as if talking to a small, stupid child. I simply gaped by means of reply. The question: WHY? seemed to spring to mind, however, so I decided to go with it.

"Why would I, the Overlord, look for some stupid little brat's pets?" I demanded, sounding more like a kid who hasn't gotten his own way than a feared ruler of the Netherworld. "Ridiculous! Absolutely ridiculous!" When in doubt, repeat your arguments; over and over and over again. But then, I saw Etna's face fall, and I almost choked on the words. "Bring me something more fitting for my first task as Overlord!" I managed to force them out nonetheless, because, in hindsight, I'm really not the sharpest knife in the proverbial drawer.

"I… I refuse!" She bellowed; sounding far more confident and infuriated than I normally would have accredited her with. Then I realised she'd just defied me… I really wasn't very quick on the uptake that day… "It may seem ridiculous to you, but it's important to him!" She yelled; the rage and hurt still spurring her on, as Flonne and I foundered like fish out of water. "This is a perfect way to begin your rule as Overlord!" She paused suddenly, seemingly diminished once the ire had run its due course. "And if you don't do it, I'm never going to accept you in his stead…" She murmured, and it was like the clichéd epiphany, the palpable slap upside the head to get an anti-hero's ass in gear. I actually understood what she was asking of me…

"W… what are you getting so damned mad for? It's not like you!" I hedged desperately, trying to buy more time so I could spontaneously plan the little speech that would cast every residual image of my father out of her head, and replace them with memories of me…

"Answer me, Laharl! Are you going to do it or not?" Unfortunately, Etna was not the most patient of girls… or short-tempered demons… Oh sweet, decomposing zombie Jesus she called me by my name…

"I'll do it…" I replied softly, sincerely, and the resulting smile almost bisected her entire head. "I'll do it…" I reiterated, if only for my own infernal amount of pride; seeing as making myself sound petulant and coerced made me feel slightly better.

* * *

"I can't believe I had to touch a freakin' HORSE WEINER!" I groaned; rubbing my palms against my thighs with as much vigour as Flonne was able to deem wholesome, as if rubbing away layers of raw flesh would remove the taint of all that was horse-like and genitalia shaped. "I think I'm gonna be sick…" I concluded morosely, pouting sulkily at Etna as she began to laugh at something that really wasn't all that uproariously amusing. 

"Heck, it wasn't THAT bad, was it Prince?" Etna asked, once her chuckles had subsided. "I mean… Aramis got his zombie-nation back… You got one person in all the Netherworld to respect you-"

"HEY!" I interrupted vehemently, as if the sheer loudness of my voice was meant to compel her into changing her argument.

"Ok, ok, fine… You ALMOST got what you wanted…" She rephrased, rewarding me with a saucy wink as I strived not to blush furiously.

"It was an unfortunate turn of phrase, is all!" I defended in the most puerile of all my manners, still in a state of shocked disbelief over inadvertently hinting that I was into boys AND children, all at the same damned time.

"Whatever you say, Your Majesty." She replied, although somehow the honorific still seemed to have been offered for no secondary purpose other than being cruelly sardonic.

"So… you forgive me… right?" I asked nervously, wondering if I was going to have to sleep with that knife under my pillow after all…

"For what?" She asked simply, treating me to a rare, genuine smile before prancing over to Flonne, where they began a truly harrowing argument over the Prinnies' secret transformation into a giant robot.

I grinned at their antics, tilting my face up to scan the skies for anything to ruin a somewhat perfect moment.

"GOOD MORNING NETHERWORLD!" She suddenly cried, mimicking the high-pitched squeal that had acted as her wakeup call this morning… Or, if we're going to be juvenile and pedantic, last night... It was one of those stupid, in between moments: four o'clock in the wee hours of either night or day. Night or day, the only thing that was for sure was that Etna was not best pleased. Heedless as always, I'd blundered on, showing off my best 'meteorological expert' voice as she clamped her threadbare pillow about her face in a valiant effort to either deafen or smother herself. "Today's going to be a bright, balmy ninety degrees in the Inferno; but watch out, there's a slight chance that there'll be a spot of rain…" She concluded, beaming maliciously as I wondered just why she had to recall that at now of all possible moments in time. She HAD forgiven me, right? Or was that just one of those feminine ploys to lull me into a false sense of security and…

The first eyeball hit me smack-dab between the eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Woo! Another update! Well, as a warning in advance, this chapter is unrepentantly fluffy in places, slightly angst-y in others, and just plain daft everywhere else. I'd watch out most for the fluff though, it can be pretty dangerous...

Also, I'd like to thank absolutely everyone who reviewed! I didn't know there were so many people here who liked Disgaea! Or my writing! Anyways, thanks muchly again, I adore all feedback! So, that means keep up the good work! Leave me MORE reviews! I'll stop now...

* * *

**Chapter Three: Of Shadows and Light**

Unsurprisingly, it's a demanding task to stealthily sneak back to one's bedroom when every single inhabitant, possibly of the entire Netherworld, seems to be guarding the damned hallways. Actually, that was a severe understatement; my mission was nearing the not-so-coveted ranking of: IMPOSSIBLE.

I had more than considered remaining in the diary room, deep within the bowels of the castle, but I doubted that the Prince would appreciate barging into my room at some godforsaken hour, only to be met with the vacant, synthetic eyes of the blow-up doll I'd stashed in a tangle of inflatable limbs beneath the moth-eaten covers of my rickety bed.

In fact, I'm pretty sure he'd be downright aggravated, seeing as I was sort of meant to dispose of the 'evidence' from that one conditioning session… Well, you could hardly blame a girl for keeping SOME blackmail material; even if such memorabilia does have a larger chest than poor, stunted Etna...

However, the truly horrific thing about that doll was that it was one of a sizeable number of KitKats, Succubae and Prism Mages; made for your interactive pleasure by means of terrifyingly inaccurate mouldings of harrowingly generic humanoids…

Then again, somehow, I think I was more perturbed and disgusted by the knowledge that my employer had actually dressed them up to the nines; sat each plastic pal down at a doily inundated table and had then attempted to converse with said inanimate objects over something as ingenuous as tea…

Fortunately for me, however; shock and fear swiftly give way into sensations of opportunism and utter hilarity. I keep that picture in my secret alcove –along with a rather large stash of negatives, in case of emergencies- framed and diligently placed on the decaying writing desk, proudly revealing unto the Netherworld: frilly pinafore-clad Laharl, brandishing his hostess' teapot whilst congenially demanding if 'Miss. Twinkle' would like to partake of a lightly buttered scone with her hot, caffeinated beverage… served on the good china, of course…

Chuckling low in my throat, I fondly petted the photograph; Laharl was too cute for words sometimes… when he wasn't being bossy, or annoying, or deranged. All in all, uninhibited moments like those were very hard to come by, which was almost confusing, because the Prince spent the majority of his deluded little life making an ass out of himself. I guess the rarity came from him braving mortification and humiliation for a good and just cause, or about as selfless as someone like Laharl could manage without shrugging off the last vestige of his credibility.

I sighed melodramatically as a crash came from the hallway; probably another vassal had tripped over the Lance of Longinus, having mistaken him for a candelabrum.

I guess I was going to be here a while longer… Stupid, incompetent vassals, I leave for two minutes and the entire castle falls to pieces.

I couldn't pinpoint just what seemed to be the main reason for my foul mood, there were just so many bitter, enraged facets of my overall vexation… Was I upset that my solitude and sanctuary had been disrupted? Was I just plain old bored that I was trapped in this grotty, undersized room with absolutely nothing to kill time?

Was I left barren and destitute when Flonne's given name left the Prince's lips…

I turned my suddenly liquid eyes to my latest diary entry, just to distract myself from my messy, pointless emotions.

_All this time, that woman was among us as one of the Prinnies... _

Ha… as if that had been a challenge to fathom out. The stupid, ditzy bint couldn't even say: Dood, properly.

Not to mention the godforsaken peace, love and general flower power crap. If the whole reincarnation deal wouldn't have rendered the entire process beyond redundant, I would have shown her what I thought of: 'Demons can love, too!' with the business end of one of those ineffectual fish-gutting knives.

I should have figured it out as soon as she adopted Flonne as her confidante… two peas in the same pod or however the expression goes. They had so much in common I wouldn't have been hard pressed to suggest that the angel-trainee was just throwing her voice to make it seem like the otherwise mute Prinny was talking.

_She just watched over the Prince without saying a word..._

This, however, I can't even begin to comprehend… She made it seem like a weakness on her part to want to hold her own child. She was the one that was always preaching the concept of love to an unwilling choir… how could she be so selfish, or selfless, as the case may prove to be, as to not indulge in a reciprocated wish for one final embrace?

I could wrap my head around the need for secrecy, if they were doomed to be forever separated… then, perhaps, it would be better to just stay dead, gone but never forgotten… but Love Freak, mark two pretty much blew her cover out of the water, and I know that Laharl's not THAT stupid as to remain completely oblivious.

I can even understand how much of a travesty it would seem, to fall back into a maternal role, wearing the skin of another cloned sinner, although the crime she committed was noble, justified and… and although I had always hated her out of envy and spite, I respected her for her loyalty, bravery… even her love.

_How could she stand it...? I don't get it..._

Maybe it's just because I'm egotistical, maybe because I know under normal circumstances I would never be entitled to even the barest hint of genuine affection, but I'd need to at least offer explanations, closure, and possibly impart some words of wisdom, just to set the boy firmly back on the straight and narrow.

She never saw what he was like when he was broken. This emaciated, hollowed out husk, still far too sickly to take such liberties with his frail health. I can still hear him screaming that he didn't care, that he wanted, needed his mother, and would gladly die if it meant that he could be with her.

I guess you could say that I half fulfilled my promise to the late King… even if it meant force-feeding that limp, lifeless automaton with burnt out embers for eyes… I kept him alive, cradled him as if he were an infinitely fragile creature borne of glass, until his heart healed and hardened, which was better than nothing at all.

I only wished that I would be the one to melt the shard of ice that resided within his constricted chest.

_She was always like that... She always filled my heart with discord..._

No matter what her actions, I always found some way to fault them… perhaps I really haven't changed at all, although so much time has elapsed. I'm still a jealous, vindictive child, snarling possessively to all those who threaten my favourite toy. Maybe I have merely displaced all of my misguided affection for the King onto his son? Much as Laharl has uprooted his feelings for his mother in order to cultivate them under Flonne's watchful gaze.

Whatever it is, it sounds unhealthy and incestuous, which does nothing to refute the popular speculation that the Netherworld is controlled by a bunch of candidates for an insane asylum, abounding with neuroses enough to spare.

Joy of happy, happy joys, not only am I hopelessly depressed and introverted, I'm also mentally unhinged.

_But, my hatred from back then is gone..._

I wonder if it's just because I know she's finally out of the picture? No, I know that she will always hold a place in his heart, and that I will never be held in such high regard.

I really feel I should hate her though, I mean, come on, she practically bellowed that she was rooting for the other woman!

What the hell is so wrong with me? Apart from the madness and the anti-social behaviour and the passion for bloody violence… but some people might interpret those as virtues instead of vices!

I still can't believe the audacity of that woman… If she's decimated my chances… well, I wouldn't encourage you to bet on my odds even before said divine intervention, but now? I doubt I'm even the long-shot.

Oh well… I don't have to hate her, but I also don't have to like her very much at the moment…

_Has time erased it...? Or..._

Has it merely been transferred to Flonne? Ha!

I'm beginning to think I'm going soft, I feel little animosity for the daft little angel, sometimes migraine-inducing annoyance, but I never genuinely wanted to do murders on her… most of the time…

She was sort of like an innocuous little pet, harmless in itself, but always prone to massacring the curtains, or accidentally having certain parts of its anatomy falling off and into one of my new shoes. Can you imagine the horror of ramming your foot into a decaying horse weiner? How the hell would you sew it back on if it was all… pulpy and… ew?

Note to self: it's not worth the sheer volume of mental scarring that comes with keeping a zombie as a house pet… Not even for all of the Hel and plunder in the world; not even for the opportunity to get Laharl back into that maid outfit and blackmail him into dusting the palace's antiquities in their entirety, all the while announcing that he felt: Pretty and witty and gay.

The chaos seemed to have died down, so I cracked open the door, just enough to allow a miniscule chink of candlelight to flood the room. I took a brief peek into the hallway, concluding pretty quickly that it was totally deserted.

Longinus was now balanced horizontally, and potentially facing the wall - I could never really tell where his eyes were, which I'd found disconcerting since childhood. Feeling a stab of something akin to pity, I righted the spear, who was avidly grumbling to itself about the 'youth of today'. I managed to discern: hoodlums, whippersnappers and 'when I was their age' from the bitter tirade, but managed to quickly tune out the heated ranting as I noticed that the Prinny Squad had all convened in the throne room.

I sauntered in, doing my damnedest to make it look that I was deliberately, fashionably late, as opposed to having effectively surrendered myself to the authorities for skulking about the halls in the middle of the night.

"Dood..." The Prinnies began to back-pedal furiously when their Overlord graced them with a glare that could melt glass, in retaliation for omitting an honorific. "Prince," They hastily corrected, "there's some kind of anomaly in the Stellar Graveyard." Mission accomplished, they began to scuttle away, or at least make themselves as inconspicuous as armed penguin rip-offs could be… One seemed to be cowering beneath a lampshade…

"Invaders from another world?" Our benevolent, unquestionable leader sulkily demanded. Awww, bless his black little heart, someone was being kept up past his bedtime.

"I have no idea, dood." An indiscriminate Prinny replied nonchalantly. It wasn't the most tactful of responses, but Laharl could hardly expect anything different from anyone but the Dimensional Gatekeeper herself.

"Invaders...?" Ah, enter Flonne, clueless and redundant as always. "Are they angels who are here to take me back?" She asked, somewhat too excitedly. I'm quite sure anyone bothering to listen in on this merry interchange of thoughts and ideas might interpret that she didn't ENJOY spending lengthy quantities of time with us! And that's absurd, right? Who wouldn't willingly give both their arms and legs to bask in the glorious presence of yours truly?

"I doubt it." I snorted indignantly, feeling vindicated to make a snippy, harsh rebuttal for Flonne's unwarranted meanness. "That place attracts a lot of weird things besides stars." I added, feeling bound by some unwritten law to remove her from the locked, darkened room of oblivion. "Flying saucers, probes, brain suckers, midgets with glowing fingertips..." I concluded smugly, thoroughly enjoying the fact that in the angel-trainee's case, enlightenment almost always went hand in hand with corruption and mental-trauma.

"Oh, my... That means there may be people who are hurt." Surprisingly, Flonne seemed to have obtained a good grasp of just ignoring me when I broached the more, unwholesome of topics. She did, however, pause to scowl at me when I jabbed my poking finger into her spine and made one creepy, potentially drug-induced inquiry, growling out: "Phone… home?"

"Let's go, Laharl!" Her response came in the form of combating my perverted, oddly shaped alien banter with a one-woman/pre-pubescent pep-rally.

"Forget it. It's probably just a piece of trash." He whined, re-establishing his pouty face after the brief snicker at Flonne's expense, no doubt at her scandalised, violated expression upon being poked.

"Laharl!" She wheedled in return. I remained silent, but was unable to restrain a particularly violent twitch. When she turned everything that was cutesy and saccharine about her up to full, unrelenting power, the response it invoked in me was reminiscent of what most people would attribute to nails on a chalkboard.

"Geez... Shouldn't an Overlord be doing something more important than this?" The Prince relented, obviously sharing my sentiments. I guess he was more sensible than I gave him credit for, most of the time he just kept blithely pushing until he was subjected to the mighty wrath of self-righteous, hella pissed off Flonne, the self-styled caped crusader for justice, equality and eternal looove!

Being one of those aforementioned sensible people, a thought like that will never leave the contents of my own impenetrable interior monologues.

Which doesn't necessarily mean I'm afraid of the angel… not that she isn't scary… she's pretty damned terrifying when it comes to do-gooding and accidentally setting things on fire while attempting to bake.

Oh… wait… I'm trying to prove that I'm NOT reduced to quailing and whimpering in fear whenever she passes by. I'd like to set the record straight, and announce that there is only ever quivering when Flonne has asked me to aid her in the cooking process, and has then enlisted my presence in acting as a guinea pig who will be forced to ingest her inevitably blackened concoction.

Otherwise, I doubt she could even scare Maderas, and he jumped at his own shadow these days…

I was about to move to test such a theory, when Laharl called me back. The others had long since departed the throne room, and I had apparently spaced out, which did oh-so-much to preserve my shrivelling dignity.

"Yo…" I forwarded lamely, steeling my emotional reserves to give me the strength not to buckle under the Overlord's almighty death glare. I failed miserably, and ended up staring wistfully to my footwear for answers… or at least a relatively good excuse.

"Do you really wish to test my patience, Etna?" He questioned, presenting me with an image of himself that was more calm and unmoved than I had ever thought him capable of establishing. "You are on probation; which means that when I summon my vassals to report to me in the throne room, you should round up every last subordinate, and have them presentable and in formation before your generously awarded five minutes are up." He stated wearily, agitation beginning to fray the edges of his tightly held composure. "This does not mean that, under even the most extreme or grievous of circumstances; that you can show up half an hour after the remainder of the rabble, who took a leisurely twenty minutes to get here in the first place!" He hissed, a ruby eye twitching beneath the pressure exerted by the pulse throbbing above one fine blue brow. And then I saw it… an improbable, miniscule flicker of fear that permeated through each vermillion iris.

Laharl was still new to his kingship, lacking in trusted advisers and connections forged by the deeply ingrained tendrils of influence that stemmed from his throne. If he let the façade slip for even a second, he would be challenged, overthrown, cast aside from his birthright. His worth needed to be proved through rigorous, unrelenting order and unquestioning loyalty.

He had chosen me to mould him into a worthy successor to his father's legacy, as he had selected Flonne to forge anew the unspoken bond he had shared with his people as a child. Laharl the Terrible had begged the help of a common servant girl, who had aims far above her station.

It wasn't quite closure, but I think I had finally come to an understanding with the late Queen. I didn't have to like the woman, and I didn't have to approve of her candidate for her son's future hand in marriage, but it didn't matter, because we were both connected. We would protect this boy, the skinny, unsure little boy that was left bereft of love and support by circumstance, by cruel twists of fate.

"It will not happen again, Overlord. The vassals will be reprimanded and drilled until they are more practiced in the art of timekeeping. As for my own difficulties with punctuality, I shall make sure that I am more, attainable, in future." I replied, tone soft but serious. "Few great men are without a faithful shadow." I grinned toothily, delighted by the Prince's relieved, slumped posture and wide, baffled eyes, flickering between alertness and exhaustion. "I shall make the preparations with the Dimensional Gatekeeper, if I am excused?"

"I worry, Etna… when you're not there…" He murmured, biting the inside of his cheek to stifle a yawn.

"I know, Prince… that's why I stay." I replied, muting the affection in my voice and biting back a kind smile. The dreaded warm and fuzzy feeling was beginning to spread through my mutinous body, and if Laharl picked up on it, which wasn't all that likely, seeing as he was already half asleep, I'd probably never live it down.

"Promise… you won't… leave me… too… Etna… promise…" He mumbled; eyelids drooping as he shifted, tucking his legs under his chin and curling his arms around his stomach, becoming hopelessly tangled up in his cape as he strove to find comfort on his unyieldingly awkward, makeshift pallet.

Lying curled up on his throne, dead to the world, revealing an innocence that was hard to come by, now that sleep had stripped the hard, frowning lines engraved in his soft face. I was hard pressed not to smile fondly at the silly twit, illuminated in the soft glow of the candlelight.

Did he not know how little my promises were worth? Did he not realise that I was not the one he should be asking forever of?

"I promise. For however long you want forever to be." I whispered, snuffing out each of the candles before leaving the Overlord to his catnap.

Since when was I one to bow out of a competition gracefully?


End file.
